


Trainer Richie used Deflect!

by bellowbacks



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fan - Freeform, M/M, Twitch Streamer - Freeform, Youtuber AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21538129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellowbacks/pseuds/bellowbacks
Summary: In which Richie Tozier is a semi-famous gaming YouTuber and Twitch streamer, and Eddie cannot STAND his Pokemon strategies.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 281





	Trainer Richie used Deflect!

Richie Tozier isn’t famous. Well, he isn’t famous, but he also isn’t NOT famous. 

He has almost a million subscribers on YouTube and a couple thousand on Twitch, so he does okay, but he isn’t, like, a celebrity.

So, when people recognize him on his huge-ass college campus, it’s always a little bit of a surprise. 

“Hey, Tozier,” someone calls out as he and his best friend Stanley walk through the quad. Richie lifts his head up from his Nintendo Switch and makes eye contact with a neckbeard-looking guy wearing a League of Legends shirt. 

“Oh, uh, hey,” he responds quickly, and then returns to his Pokemon battle. He’s ass deep in the Wild Area battling a Gardevoir 6 levels his superior, and his Nickit has Run Away but he really wants to work on his Pokedex as early as possible, so catching this Gardevoir would really help-

“Rich,” Stan says and bumps his shoulder, “Watch where you’re going.” Richie steps over the thick crack in the sidewalk without taking his eyes off the screen. Stan sighs. “Are you ever going to put that thing down?

“I said I was going to be ready for the first gym for my stream tonight,” Richie says mindlessly as he presses down on Quick Attack. The Gardevoir is down in the red now, and he pumps his fist. “I need a good fairy type ‘cause I won’t get one until the legendary, which is probably post-game based on the last few gens.”

“You’re such a fucking nerd,” Stan replies and steers Richie into the building their class is in. 

“You have framed bird puzzles that you modge podged together, Staniel,” Richie retorts as his Pokeball shakes once, twice, and then the Gardevoir pops right back out. “Fuck,” he mutters. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan says and pushes Richie into a classroom and down into his seat as Richie finally catches the Gardevoir. 

“Fucking finally,” he says and waits for it to register in his Pokedex, and then he hits save. He pulls his Switch case out of his backpack and puts his console inside, then back in his backpack. He puts his laptop on the desk instead and immediately opens Twitter. 

Richie and Stan were late, just by a minute, so the professor is already standing at the front of the class writing on the whiteboard. 

The kid behind Richie kicks him. “Pay attention,” he hisses, and Richie twists around in his seat.

He knows that the guy’s name is Eddie, and that he’s way shorter than Richie, and he’s very cute. His hair is always carefully brushed and groomed with a crisp part on the right side, while Richie’s is all loose curls tickling his thick, plastic glasses. 

“What, you gonna make me?” Richie retorts quietly and quirks the corner of his lips up. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “He’s telling us what’s due for the final, jackass,” he replies and then picks up his mechanical pencil and starts jotting down notes. Richie sighs and turns back around to his laptop and tweets, ‘Why do all the cute guys hate me @ god’ and immediately he gets a couple likes and a few vaguely horny replies. He ignores them and closes Twitter. 

Fine, he’ll pay attention. Maybe his Philosophy class will matter someday. 

Yeah, as if. 

“You streaming tonight?” Stan asks, and Richie nods. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna try to get through the first gym, maybe the second,” Richie says. “I wanna go shiny hunting because I get to talk with the audience so much, but there’s no point in shiny hunting unless I’ve finished the game.”

Stan looks at him blankly, and then shakes his head. 

“Sure, yeah,” he says with a fake smile. Richie rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll see you later, Satan,” Richie laughs and waves at Stan, who scowls at the bastardization of his name and turns away. Richie chuckles. Bullying his best friends is the best part of his day. 

His dorm isn’t too far from the dining hall, which is where he and Stan just departed from, and he heads that way.

Richie lives in the suite style housing, so he shares a kitchen and a living room with three other losers, but he doesn’t mind. It was the only way he could get a single room and keep streaming every night when he got to college. Plus, his roommates actually rule. 

Beverly, or Bev, as Richie took to calling her almost instantly, is right next to him. She has short orange hair that she does absolutely nothing with and paints Richie’s fingernails for him every Sunday night. She’s a social work major and Richie forgets that constantly because she’s way too snarky to deal with traumatized kids, right? Except she’s also kind, and caring, and he definitely gets it. 

Next to Beverly is Ben, who’s also pretty chill. He’s a creative writing major, so he makes Richie listen to his poems sometimes. They’re fine, or so Richie thinks. He knows jack shit about poetry, but Ben’s a good guy. He’s real sweet, and he always cleans up the kitchen when Richie forgets to after his hyperactive midnight cooking sessions.

Mike is the only one who got thrown in after school started. He’s a transfer from some smaller local school, so he ended up here a few weeks into the semester. He’s quiet but he’s nice enough and Richie likes making him laugh. He’s a history major, so he spends a lot of time at the library, which Richie decidedly does NOT do for his own game design major. 

“Hey, Rich,” Beverly says from her perch on the couch when he walks into their apartment on the third floor. 

“Hey Bev, what’chya watching?” he asks and peers at the TV. 

“It’s a documentary for my Oppression and Empowerment class, it’s nothing exciting,” Bev shrugs. “I mean, I like it. But…”

“I wouldn’t, I get it,” Richie grins and gives her a two fingered salute as goodbye as he walks into his own bedroom. 

The rooms in the suite style living are small, but Richie doesn’t mind. He doesn’t own much, anyways. His bed is against the leftmost wall when you walk in, and his desk is pressed against the window for good lighting. There’s a softbox set up above and to the right of his computer, right above his webcam, and his thick gaming chair is stuck over in the corner with laundry all over the floor between his chair and desk. Richie sighs, throws his backpack down on his unmade bed, and starts picking up his dirty clothes. 

As soon as his floor is clear enough to get his chair over to his desk, he pulls out his phone and sends a tweet. ‘gonna start the stream in 20, gotta make dinner’, he types, and then as a reply, sends like four ramen emojis. 

Ben is in the kitchen when he heads out, but he’s just sitting at the counter talking to Bev, so Richie ducks around him and digs a packet of ramen out of his designated shelf. He crams it into a tupperware with water and sticks it in the microwave for 3 minutes. 

“Ramen again, Rich?” Bev asks, and Richie nods. 

“Oh, the life of a poor, starving college student,” he sighs and dramatically flings himself against the fridge. 

“Don’t you make a ton of money with YouTube and Twitch?” Ben asks, and Richie holds up a finger. 

“Shhh, don’t question me,” he whispers. “I eat what I eat.”

Beverly rolls her eyes. “Hey, my friend is coming over tomorrow to work on a project. We’ll be in here for like two hours,” she says and gestures to the living room.

“Ooh, what’s her name? She cute?” Richie says and raises his eyebrows dramatically. 

“His name is Bill, and he’s straight, so don’t try any shit,” Bev says, and Richie grins. 

“You know me so well, Beav,” he says, and then the microwave goes off. Richie rips the corner off of the seasoning packet before he grabs the hot tupperware. He dumps the packet in and stirs it up. “Alright, I’m gonna go stream some Pokemon.”

“Good luck,” Ben says, and Beverly just lifts a hand in goodbye. 

When Richie gets settled in and starts up his stream, a couple folks join in immediately. He recognizes a few, so he greets them aloud. 

“Hey, Marie, Sam- Oh, Spaghetti, you’re here,” Richie says and gestures to the Twitch chat, where it’s scrolling along. “Are you back to bully me?”

Spaghetti89 doesn’t send anything back for a moment, so Richie turns back to the camera. 

“For those of you watching who don’t know about me and Spaghetti’s growing love affair, here’s the lowdown,” Richie starts and leans back in his seat as he queues up his Switch. “He hates me because I pick my Pokemon based on who’s cute or fucking grossly loveable, rather than what’s good in a competitive sense, or whatever, yadda yadda yadda. It all goes over my head, but Grookey is cute, and Garbodor is me, at least according to him, as he has nicknamed me ‘Trashmouth’, so I’m gonna keep doing what I’m doing.”

The stream has populated a little more by now, and Spaghetti89 just sends an angry face at Richie’s story. The rest of the audience seems properly excited, so he loads up his save file, clicks his JoyCons into his controller grip, and throws his headphones on over his mass of curls. 

“Alright, so I said today I was gonna beat the first gym. It’s, uh, it’s grass type, and I picked Grookey, but I got a- a fuckin’ Gardevoir now, his name is Stanley, and my Rookidee is named Nips, so we’re gonna pick up a few new friends and see what we can do,” Richie starts with and leans back. It’s gonna be a fun stream. 

Within minutes of catching a Wooloo, naming it Callow (“After the guy from Black Mirror- yes I know that was a pig, let me make my fucking bad jokes, what else are you here for”), Spaghetti is going bananas in Richie’s quickly scrolling Twitch messages. 

“Spaghetti, listen. I honestly do not give a single shit that this Wooloo is a bad member of my team, look at its fucking face,” Richie says and gestures to his screen. “Look at him, holy shit.”

 **Spaghetti89** : you fucking idiot you didn’t get the meowth yet??? you spent all of your money on CLOTHES

“I had to get my fashions up to code, Spaghetti man. This fuckin’ windbreaker? Absolutely the best, thank you very much. Who gives a shit that it’s 18,000 Poke-bucks or whatever?” Richie retorts as he runs through the Wild Area, avoiding the high levels in the center of the pathway and peering closely at the tall grass. “What am I supposed to do, play this with strategy? If that’s what you’re looking for, this is NOT the right channel for you, buddy.”

He encounters a Mudbray, attacks it once, and then throws three or four failed Pokeballs at it before Spaghetti responds. 

**Spaghetti89** : you infuriate me, trashmouth.

Richie grins at the camera, a big, wide mess of a grin, and then adjusts his glasses and leans in closer to his switch. “Thanks Spaghetti, I’m wildly in love with you too. Yes, I’d love to meet up with you, send me a time and a place,” he adlibs and winks at the camera. The chat becomes a sea of ‘spaghetti’ emojis, which is just clipart of a bowl of spaghetti, and Richie laughs. 

Spaghetti doesn’t return for any of the rest of the stream, even when Richie fights the next gym, and he finds himself disappointed. He shuts it off just after midnight and crawls into bed, dreaming of wild Dittos and an ice type starter. 

The next day, he has class with Stan again. 

They meet in the classroom this time, as it’s Richie’s first class of the day, and why would he ever leave his dorm room before his first class? Sure, the dining hall exists, but he also has cup noodles, and when have they ever let him down?

He sits in the back corner with Stan in front of him and pulls out his laptop to do research. Spaghetti may think he knows jack all about Pokemon, but when Richie’s into something, he’s into it. He knows A LOT about Pokemon, and Street Fighter, and Star Wars. 

But also, Wooloo is cute, and Richie is a sucker for a cute face. 

He does some deep googling about the third gym, as he beat the first two the night before, and then pockets the information for later. After that, he opens up a document for an essay due the next week and starts cleaning up his outline. 

Richie is very productive in that hour block, but he doesn’t register a single word the professor says. 

After class, he and Stan get food. 

“So that Spaghetti kid was bothering you again yesterday, I saw. Twitter was talking about it,” Stan asks as they wait in line for Korean BBQ at the specialty counter of their dining hall. 

“Yeah, he’s so cute. He thinks I actually don’t give a shit,” Richie grins. “What does Twitter have to say?”

Stan shrugs and then thanks the woman behind the counter as she hands him a bowl, and then he loiters to wait for Richie. “Not much, other than how he was still in the chat for the rest of the night even though he wasn’t talking at all,” he says, and Richie almost drops his fork. 

“He was?” he asks, and he hates how he sounds a little too excited. He doesn’t care about Spaghetti89, not really. He totally didn’t stalk his Twitch account to find his birthday and if there were any images, not technically. 

Stan did. 

And he found nothing but his age, which is 19. 

“Yeah, he stuck around, at least technically,” Stan shrugs. “Don’t know what to make of that, but-”

“I do,” Richie grins, “He doesn’t hate me as much as he pretends to, right? He can’t hate me and still watch my shit, I’m insufferable.” The duo walk to their favorite table, see that it’s taken, and U-turn right around to a different one that could fit them both. 

“I mean, you’re not wrong about that,” Stan sighs as they sit down. “Why don’t you just message this guy?”

Richie almost spits out his beef. “Why the fuck would I do that?” he splutters. 

Stan looks unimpressed. “You like him?”

“I fucking do not, I hate the guy. He underestimates me all the time and doesn’t respect my cute ass team,” Richie says and rolls his eyes, but his chest is burning and eating doesn’t help. 

“Yeah, whatever Rich,” Stan replies and starts eating. That’s one of the things Richie loves about Stan. He knows Richie better than anyone, but he won’t bother him with shit when he knows Richie doesn’t want to talk about it. 

They eat together, and then Richie has another class and Stan doesn’t, so they part ways. Richie’s class is Principles of Game Programming, which he actually has to pay attention in, so he pulls out his notebook to take notes instead of having the option of browsing the internet or fucking around on cool math games. 

He doodles, too, but of course he does. He has ADHD, what else can one ask of him? 

If he doodles little bowls of spaghetti and Pikachus in the margins of his programming notes, can one really fault him?

During his stream that night, Spaghetti hops in a little late. 

“Spaghetti! I missed you, my love,” Richie riffs immediately when he sees people start spamming the spaghetti emojis. “Come dunk on my team of cuties. Look what I got, just for you.” He keys over on his team to his brand new Trubbish, which he has named Trashmouth. “See? It’s me!”

Spaghetti sends a message a minute later. 

**Spaghetti89** : glad to see you’re taking my advice, getting some decent type lineups.  
 **Spaghetti89** : trashmouth.

Richie sticks his tongue out at the camera and continues along the game. He battles Hop, his rival. He catches a few more Pokemon. 

All the while, he banters with Spaghetti. 

“Please, won’t you be my Pokemon tutor?” he begs at one point when Spaghetti starts in depth explaining type match ups after Richie forgets to move his starter to the top slot when he battles his rival. “I’d do anything, and I mean… anything.” He winks.

 **Spaghetti89** : gross, richie.  
 **Spaghetti89** : please, i beg of you, get a fucking water or dragon type

Richie grins and runs through the Wild Area. “I know just the one, Spaghetti baby,” he says as he scans the tall grass until he sees what he wants: a Cramorant. It’s an ugly-ass pelican looking bastard bird, and it’s a water type, so Spaghetti will be pleased. Right?

He encounters it, and immediately Spaghetti is sending shit. 

**Spaghetti89** : richie i swear to fucking god  
 **Spaghetti89** : you know this isnt what i meant  
 **Spaghetti89** : theres drednaw, or the apple bitch  
 **Spaghetti89** : the . appleton? flapple? that bitch. its dragon grass right

Richie reads them as he silently catches the Cramorant, names it Spaghetti<3, and adds it to his party. “How’s this?” he asks innocently. 

**Spaghetti89** : i am going to strangle you 

Richie laughs, a full body laugh he hasn’t felt in a while. “If I die, bury my switch with me. Also, Spaghetti probably did it,” he says, and then goes back to properly playing and interfacing with his other fans. Spaghetti is quiet, but he sends a few more messages throughout the night. 

When Richie finishes up, he turns off his switch and switches the Twitch view to full facecam. He runs his fingers through his messy hair to get rid of the headphones line. “So, uh, I’m gonna take a day off tomorrow, but I have a video that’s going up on YouTube, so you get content anyways! I have a study session with my group for my Philosophy class, and I don’t pay attention in that class, so it’ll realistically be a long ass study sesh.”

“What’s tomorrow’s video? Oh, it’s a new fun game show I made up called ‘Eat Or Yeet?’, which I immediately bullied my roommates into playing. It’s got complicated rules and a lot of shots of me touching a pumpkin pie and having no goddamn clue what I’m supposed to be touching, so you should definitely watch it,” Richie grins at the camera. “You too, Spaghetti. There’s a bonus little easter egg, just for you.”

Spaghetti89: ill look out  
Spaghetti89: im busy tomorrow too but ill be here, same time same place, sunday night  
Spaghetti89: wow, i really need a life huh

Richie laughs at loud and crosses his hands behind his head. “Spaghetti, dear, I can be your whole world if you let me,” he flirts and then winks at the camera. He checks who’s still on the stream, and it’s under a hundred folks now. “Uh, now that its died down a little bit, I’m, uh, kind of serious. Spaghetti, if you wanna, talk, or something… DM me on Twitter or whatever. Just for you, one time only deal, I’ll learn your real name before I say something I’ll regret.”

It’s quiet in the chat, everyone leaving room for Spaghetti to respond, and then a message pops up. 

**Spaghetti89** : ‘before’ you say smth you’d regret?  
 **Spaghetti89** : if i were you id regret being born  
 **Spaghetti89** : ill dm you, loser. 

A few seconds pass. 

**Spaghetti89** : say anything you want to me, i like it all

Richie grins so wide he feels like a kid again, all pre-braces and buck teeth. “I’ll be hearing from you then, my dear Spaghetti man!” he says and blows a few kisses at the webcam. 

He stops the stream soon after that, and then he settles in to his seat and lets his heart beat out of his chest. Spaghetti is going to contact him, and the easy banter that they fall into so quick can maybe- MAYBE- go IRL. Richie is somewhere between elated and panicking, so he does the most reasonable thing he can think of. 

He runs out into his living room and collapses on the couch with a loud groan. 

It isn’t until after he does this- maybe the gayest shit he’s ever pulled- that he realizes that Beverly and some guy are sitting around a laptop on the floor in front of the couch. 

“You good, Rich?” Beverly asks. Richie groans again into the pillow. “Yeah, I get it,” Bev responds. 

“I sort of almost asked out the guy I like, but I don’t actually know him, and he may or may not hate me, and also he knows what my face looks like and STILL agreed to… Whatever it is he agreed to, and-”

“Rich, slow down,” Beverly says and shifts to face him. “Explain.”

“There’s this guy who watches my streams and makes fun of me for not knowing anything about strategy, which I do, I just pretend I don’t so he’ll give me attention because the way he talks is so cute, and I asked him to DM me and he said he would but he hasn’t yet, and I’m going to lose my fucking gay mind, Beverly,” Richie manages, all in a rush, and Beverly’s friend blinks at him. “And friend.”

“Bill,” he offers, and then, “D-does this guy know you like him l-l-like that?”

Richie hugs an embroidered pillow that his mom sent him that says ‘THIS IS MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT PILLOW’ and sits up. “Uh, I mean, I flirt with him almost constantly, but I, like, don’t tell people shit like that,” he says.

Bill frowns. “Why not?”

“Rejection terrifies him,” Beverly offers. 

“That’s f-f-fair,” Bill says, and Richie waves his arms in the air.

“I’m right here! And yes, sure, rejection terrifies me, but I also have this fucked up complex about being gay, and I’m like, not famous but sort of famous, and I’m scared of all of it, not just the rejection part,” Richie says and presses his face into the pillow. 

Bill closes his laptop and pulls his knees to his chest. “He accepted your o-o-off-offer, though?” he asks, and Richie nods miserably. “Then I’d think you h-have a chance.”

Beverly nods. “I agree. Just see what happens, Rich,” she says, and Richie sighs dramatically and flings himself back down onto the couch. 

“Fine, I will patiently wait for a normal response like some sort of, fucking, straight person,” he mutters. “Thank you Bill, you seem cool. Night Bev.”

Bill and Beverly chorus goodnights, and Richie gets up, promptly collapses into bed, and falls asleep after checking his Twitter notifications one more time and plugging his phone in. 

Nothing yet. 

Richie really, REALLY doesn’t want to work on this fucking philosophy project. It’s about Aristotle, or some shit, and all he can think about is Spaghetti, Pokemon, and how he still has to make sure his video is properly queued. 

He gets to the meeting room they booked early after sleeping in a frankly ridiculous amount, so he pulls out his laptop and goes to YouTube to check on just that. It’s all set up for two hours later, so he checks Twitter. Still nothing. He searches @spaghetti89 in the search bar, but nothing pops up for that either. Richie sighs and reluctantly opens his student email, and then the Google Slides link to their presentation. 

The rest of his group is Stan, some girl who never shows up to class and will most certainly not show up to this work session, and Eddie, the kid with the mechanical pencils and the cute face. Richie doesn’t really mind getting to hang out with Eddie for a few hours, but he feels a little guilty thinking that when he JUST offered Spaghetti what was, in essence, a one way ticket to the Richie Tozier bone zone. 

Stan comes in right on time as always. Stan is the most punctual person on the planet, and Richie loves him for it. 

Eddie is right behind, and then they dig into the Marquis de Condorcet, or whoever the fuck that is. Apparently he cared a lot about progress for a french person with like seventeen names, so Richie busies himself with finding images for their slides, as well as perfecting the color palette and theme. 

“Are you like this in every class?” Eddie asks as Richie drags a mustache .png onto a picture of Condorcet. 

“No, just the ones that don’t matter,” Richie responds and grins in the way he knows shows off the little dimples in his cheeks. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs. “You know they all matter, right? Philosophy helps you get a more well-rounded view of the world, and you can barely help people, or- what’s your major?” he asks. 

“Game design.”

“Of fucking course it is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Children, calm down,” Stan mutters. “Eddie, what do you have?” 

Eddie pushes his computer across the table to Richie and Stan’s side. Richie, mostly to be obnoxious, leans aggressively on Stan’s shoulder and peers at Eddie’s laptop. The slideshow is pulled up and the sliver of desktop he can see on the side of the screen is completely clean with one of the default Apple wallpapers. Awful. 

Suddenly, Eddie gets a notification, and Richie just about shits himself. 

“Holy fuck, you’re subscribed to me,” he grins, looking over the screen of the computer to look at Eddie. “You just got a notification for my new video- it’s a great one, by the way- and holy shit, you’re a fucking fan.”

Eddie’s cheeks are pink and Richie finds it absolutely adorable. “I’m not a fan, idiot. I subscribe because you go here, and my friend talks about you sometimes,” he mutters and rubs the back of his neck. Richie hums in disbelief.

“Sure, sure. Or you secretly think I’m hysterical and my face is cute and you subscribe because you like me,” Richie posits, and Eddie just sighs and snatches his computer back. 

“Whatever you want to think,” Eddie says, and they return to their project. There isn’t much left to do, but the sun is already sinking in the sky outside, so Richie finishes up what he was actually, seriously working on in a few notes outside of the document. He copy-pastes them into empty slides, makes them look nice, and then turns to his group. 

“Done?” he asks and twirls his computer around. Eddie looks at the slides and frowns. 

“When did you do these?”

“Oh, here and there,” Richie says passively. “We’re done though, right? If we finish now I might be able to stream later.”

Eddie looks at him with an expression Richie can’t read, and then he nods. 

“Yeah, sure. Stan?” he says. Stan nods, and they all pack up their stuff. Richie throws his thick gaming laptop into his backpack and jams his similarly branded gaming headphones over his ears. 

“See you two on Tuesday,” he says with a grin and heads out, not sparing a glance, even as he notices Eddie and Stan speaking after he leaves. If it’s about philosophy, he doesn’t give a single fuck. 

Richie listens to a David Bowie song on the way back to his dorm that had stuck in his head for the second half of the work session. He bops his head and waves to a few folks and he’s generally feeling pretty good. 

When he gets home, the living room and kitchen are empty, so he grabs a Mountain Dew from the fridge and a bag of Chex Mix from his cabinet and goes to settle in at his desk. 

‘Surprise stream in 5, probably just gonna play sims or talk, i’m drained but i wanna see you all’ he tweets quickly, and then he sees that he has a Twitter messages notification. 

It’s from a new user, obviously created just for this, with the username Spaghetti89. Richie grins and kicks off his shoes. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers as he clicks on it. It’s just a message that says ‘hey richie, it’s spaghetti. now you can bully me yourself instead of in front of an audience’, but it makes Richie grin so wide his cheeks hurt. 

He takes a deep breath, and then he types out a response to Spaghetti. 

‘Hey Spaghetti darling thank you for finally hitting up my DMs like i have always wanted’

He gets a response almost instantly.

 **Spaghetti89** : do you have autocaps on for sentences but autocaps for the letter i turned off  
 **Spaghetti89** : also yeah i mean. you’re cute and you asked so nicely

Richie laughs and hugs his phone close to his chest for a second, flapping his hand around, and then he turns back to it. 

‘Yeah, i’m like that. Also if me asking you to DM me made you uncomfortable at all you dont have to i just think you’re so funny and i’d love to be your friend’ he types back, erasing and retyping friend three times before finally just smashing send. 

Richie sets his phone down on his desk and queues up his stream. His phone buzzes right as he starts it, but he manages to make himself greet the early chat before he checks his phone. 

“Also, if I’m gayer than normal today,” he starts, and then his cheeks flush red. “Uh, don’t worry about it. I’m just- I’m talking to someone.”

The chat goes crazy with that, and then a few spaghetti emojis start to speckle the chat. Richie rolls his eyes and checks his Twitter messages. 

**Spaghetti89** : no you dont make me uncomfortable, dont worry  
 **Spaghetti89** : you make me a lot of other things, but youre not being weird. 

Richie runs his fingers through his unruly hair and then peers at the Twitch chat a second to see if Spaghetti was watching before he started typing. He doesn’t see him, so he types quickly. 

“Okay, thanks. i get paranoid about that kind of shit, and you’re way cooler than me, so i dont want to make you think im Like That” he types real quick and then turns back to the chat. 

‘is it spaghetti’ is the number one question he’s getting, so he sighs and figures, hey, might as well get this shit over with. 

“Yeah, guys, me and Spaghetti are DMing. No, that does not give you free reign to be creepy, only I have the skill to do that but not freak out everyone in the tri-state area,” Richie says to the chat, and even more spaghetti emojis swim by. He has about a hundred more viewers than he normally would have on a night like this, and there’s no clear reason why. Nothing’s changed, except for Spaghetti, and Richie is still Richie. 

**Spaghetti89** : no hes way weirder in DMs, way less cool, as if he ever was

“Hey! Spaghetti, don’t do this to me,” Richie laughs and wraps his arms around himself. “I’m uh, I’m gonna get in my comfy hoodie, don’t expect normal, cool, sexy Richie tonight. I’m drained.” Richie tugs off his hawaiian shirt, leaving a t-shirt with Queen’s logo carefully printed across its grey front, and then he grabs his Twitch partner hoodie from where it’s tossed on his floor. 

Spaghetti tweet messages him. ‘the gamer thing suits you with the twitch hoodie & everything’ is all it says, and Richie reads it a few times over before he turns back to the chat for a moment, typing his reply underneath where the camera captures. 

‘i tend to like it, yeah. It pays for tuition’ is all he texts back, except he spells tuition like ‘tuitopn’. He notices, sighs, and sends the correction. 

“I may be in and out today, but I just wanted to check in and update you all on my upload and streaming schedule real quick,” he says and sets his phone down definitively. His job is probably more important than this random guy he’s messaging with, at least for a few minutes.

“So! Uploads for next week are as follows,” Richie says and refers to the calendar sticky-noted to the top of his desk. “Tuesday, I have a video on the new Pokemon game’s first impressions, so if you’ve missed my Swish streams so far, you can catch the funny bits then, featuring comments by Spaghetti. Friday is a Sims build, one I’ve been meaning to post for a while, I think you’ll all like it a lot.” Richie sits back and picks at his fingernails. 

“I’ll be streaming at the normal time tomorrow, and then the regular times all week unless something changes. As normal, though,” Richie says and does a little mock salute, “Check my twitter, At-Richie-Tozier, that’s T-O-Z-I-E-R, @richietozier, for updates on videos, streams, whatever. All the gamer shit I do.”

He reads the chat for a few moments more, and then he signs off, shuts the stream down, and climbs into bed. Fuck, it feels like every day now when he gets in bed he could just collapse from how tired he is. 

Richie’s phone buzzes then, and suddenly he’s wide awake. 

‘cute stream, i like tired rich’. 

Richie’s face goes so hot he throws his blankets off and cracks his window. “Fuck, Spaghetti,” he whispers, “You can’t say that shit.”

‘i like cute YOU’ Richie sends back. 

‘not your best.’

‘i know but i’m good at flirting and not good at being flirted with so im having a gay crisis right now’

‘who said im a guy?’

Richie’s heart sinks, and he feels like such a fucking idiot. Of course Spaghetti is a fucking girl, why would he even assume that Spaghetti, of all things, is a male name? He’s such a fucking-

‘i am, and im gay, and also in college. this isnt weird dont panic’

Richie curls into a tight ball back on his bed and holds his phone way too close to his face. 

‘You caught me just in time to keep me from full on panicking, etti’, he types.

‘etti?’

‘i nickname when i’m nervous.’

‘its cute. im going to sleep, ill talk to you tomorrow’

Richie types back his response about seven times before he finally just shoves his phone underneath his pillow and rolls over. Fuck, man. 

Richie and Spaghetti barely talk on Sunday, and even during the stream, Spaghetti hardly makes an appearance. Richie plays Pokemon, and he makes dumb rookie mistakes at first to see if he can draw out Spaghetti’s snark, but then he just plays, and it’s still fun. 

It’s just a little disappointing. 

On Mondays Richie doesn’t have any classes, so he records a video for next week’s schedule and then edits Tuesday’s video. He plays some Sims before his stream time, and then he gets lost in a build, and he loads up Twitch so he can keep playing the Sims on the stream. 

**Spaghetti89** : wheres pokemon

Richie laughs out loud when he sees the message in the chat the second he goes live. “Fuck you, Spaghetti, yesterday was Pokemon. Today I wanna play the Sims because this house is fucking massive and this roof absolutely will not cooperate with me,” he says, but he can’t stop smiling. 

**Spaghetti89** : :( im leaving

Richie rolls his eyes and continues to build. Spaghetti doesn’t leave, and he consistently bullies Richie in the chat about his Sims building skills. Richie thinks he might be in love. 

When the stream is coming to a close, Richie loads his game into live mode and makes one of his sims make spaghetti. He’s silent as he watches it happen, and then he winks into the camera. 

“New video up tomorrow, stream is the same as always. Love you all,” he says and waves, leaving his screen up zoomed in on his simself eating a huge bowl of spaghetti. He cuts the stream as soon as Spaghetti messages him.

‘richie why are you Like This’ he sends, and Richie brings his phone into the bathroom with him to brush his teeth while he responds. 

‘All 100% corn fed beef, baby’ he messages back, and Spaghetti sends him a cow emoji. Richie rolls his eyes and gets ready for bed. 

After a few minutes of contemplating, he sends another message. 

‘Whats your name? i keep calling you spaghetti and i dont love it’

There’s no reply for a long time, and Richie falls asleep before panic can fully set in, but it sure starts to. 

He wakes up to still no message, but he swallows his anxiety (read: swallows a prescription Xanax) alongside his breakfast at the dining hall, and then he heads to class with Stan. 

“So he still isn’t messaging you?” Stan frowns, “That’s weird, you two were constantly talking yesterday, right?”

Richie sighs and nods. He has his switch in hand again. It’s not really to play, he really just wants to have something in his hands that isn’t his phone, but his professor eyes it as soon as they walk into class. Eddie is already setting up their presentation, so Richie pushes his misery aside, stuffs his switch into its case and then in his bag. His phone is in his pocket still, but he flips it to silent. 

The presentation is fine. It’s boring, but the professor compliments their theme when they pull up the first slide. Richie talks for a bit about his slides, but Eddie and Stan do most of it. Their fourth group member never shows, which was expected, so it leaves Richie to push the spacebar and progress from slide to slide. 

He may zone out a little, sure, but he forwent his usual meds this morning in favor of not having an anxiety attack, so sue him. Eddie has to gesture a few times to get him to flip the slides, and once it happens three times, Eddie starts seeming really annoyed. 

Richie feels bad, because he knows its his fault, but he just shrugs sheepishly and presses the button. 

When it happens again, Eddie hisses, “Switch it, Trashmouth,” and Richie freezes. 

Well, he freezes after he presses the spacebar, so he has a second to process what the fuck he just heard. 

Eddie called him Trashmouth. Only one person calls him Trashmouth, and that’s Spaghetti89, the cute but weird but antagonistic but neurotic- oh fuck. Richie swallows hard, presses the spacebar robotically when Eddie pauses in his speech, and looks him up and down. 

Eddie is wearing shorts that are just a little bit too short, an oversized t-shirt that hung way too far down over his thin shoulders cuffed at the sleeves, and athletic shoes. His hair is groomed well and cut cleanly and Richie feels suffocatingly self-conscious. 

“And that’s what the Marquis de Condorcet has to say about progress, and the impact it has on how we view progress today,” Eddie is concluding, and Richie manages to turn to the class and do an extravagant bow, but he walks back to his seat with an automation that makes his limbs feel stuck. 

He opens the lid of his laptop, opens Twitter DMs, and sends one message. 

‘Eddie?’

A phone sitting on the desk directly behind him buzzes right when he sends it, and he closes his eyes. Spaghetti- SpagEddie, oh fuck, Richie thinks, and rubs at his face. He’s so fucking stupid, of course it was Eddie. 

Eddie inhales sharply, and then class is over. 

“Eddie,” Richie says immediately and twists around in his seat, but Eddie bolts out of the classroom before Richie even sees him stand up. 

Stan looks at Richie and frowns. “What’s up with Eddie?” he asks, and Richie shows his phone to Stan. 

“He’s Spaghetti,” Richie says slowly- for the first time in his fucking life, he says something slowly- and Stan’s eyes go wide. 

“Eddie? Like, Eddie Kaspbrak Eddie? The one we just did the project with?” he asks, and Richie nods. 

“98%,” he says. He picks up his backpack and puts his laptop away slowly. “He’s fucking… He sits behind me in this class, and he’s so fucking cute, and funny, and he knows me so well, Stan, Spaghetti does.”

Stan links his arm through Richie’s once Richie’s backpack is slung over his shoulders. “Just talk to him. He obviously likes you, or he’s catfishing you, but Eddie seems way too cool of a guy to pull something like that.”

Richie nods, but he still looks around when they exit the classroom for any sight of Eddie. Predictably, there’s nothing, so he lets Stan lead him to the dining hall. 

They eat, and Richie is quiet.

It’s bizarre, and Stan keeps asking if he’s okay, but Richie is typing texts to Eddie and erasing them. 

‘Eddie, i dont care that you’re spaghetti, i think you’re really cute’

‘Spagheds i miss you’

‘Are you going to come by my stream tonight?’

‘Eddie Spaghetti, i get it’.

He doesn’t send any of them. Stan rubs his shoulder sympathetically, and then they part ways. Richie has a stream in a little while, which fucking blows because this just isn’t the day, but he’s barely thought about it when he steps into his living room and Eddie is sitting on his couch. 

“Eds?” he asks instantly. Eddie twists around in his seat and looks at Richie. 

“Don’t call me that,” he says immediately, but he doesn’t turn away or run, and Richie calls that a victory. Mike is sitting beside him, with Ben and Bev sitting at the kitchen counter, and Richie feels like that .gif of Donald Glover with pizza on Community. 

“I’ll go,” Beverly says and yanks Ben out of the apartment with her. Mike pats Eddie’s shoulder, and then does the same. Eddie stands up. 

“Uh, hey,” Eddie says, and his hair is messed up and Richie is overwhelmed. 

“Hey, Spagheds,” he says instinctively. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, shifts his weight from foot to foot, and adjusts his hair. Richie thinks he might die. 

“That one sucks too,” Eddie says. 

“You should’ve thought about that before you made your online name Spaghetti, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie retorts automatically. The bite that he pushes into most of the things he says is gone, replaced with a quiet confusion. “Why did you run?”

“I needed to talk to Mike,” Eddie says and steps forward, closer to Richie. “He’s the only one who knew-”

“Mike knew?” Richie squints. 

“Yeah, I made him promise not to tell, don’t kill him,” Eddie says and chews on his lip. “I was nervous, I didn’t want you to get weirded out, or something.”

“Why would I be weirded out?” Richie asks and blinks a few times, “Not entirely following the plot here.”

“I’m just a fucking pre-med student who sits behind you in a class you don’t care about and also, in case you forgot, I cyberbully you like every day,” Eddie says, raising both his eyebrows so far up Richie could swear they could fly away. 

Then, Richie registers what Eddie was saying, and he laughs. “Shit, Eds, you’re not cyberbullying me. You’re trying to teach me Pokemon strats, and I ignore you because I’m a fucking jerk not because you’ve hurt my feelings or whatever. You’re pre-med and also very cute, and I’ve liked you as Eddie semi-separate from you as Spaghetti for a minute already,” Richie says, letting it all tumble out into a mess, right onto Eddie, who is flushed pink and wide-eyed. 

“You like me? As Spaghetti?” Eddie asks after a moment of silence, and Richie laughs again, harder. 

“Fucking, yeah, man. That’s why I play Pokemon so shitty, so you’ll come bully me. Do you think I’d ever actually have a Garbodor named Trashmouth in my number one slot when I’m shiny hunting a fucking Diglett?” Richie says through his laughter. He reaches out and takes one of Eddie’s hands. “Listen, Spaghetti. I like you, and I think you’re really fucking funny and very fucking cute.”

Eddie stares blankly at Richie for a moment before he finally speaks. “Really?” he asks, and then, “Because my mom told me you’re already very happily coupled up with her.”

Richie howls with laughter, letting go of Eddie’s hand to hold his glasses to his face, and then grins at Eddie. “Fucking good one, but yes, really, I like you,” he grins back, and Eddie smiles too, big and geniune. 

“You still have to take me out to dinner before you’re getting anything out of me, Trashmouth,” Eddie says, and Richie agrees. 

“Anything but dining hall, and I’m in.”

“Hello, Trashmouth Nation,” Richie grins as he loads up his stream a few days later. The name is starting to catch on, much to Eddie’s chagrin and Richie’s enthusiasm, and Richie is already thinking about branding opportunities. 

“Tonight is no regular Pokemon stream, as yesterday I finished the main story of Pokemon Shield,” he says. He’s tapping on his desk and it’s audible through the mic. The camera is set wider than usual. “Instead, someone we all know and love very dearly is going to be starting a Nuzlocke run of Pokemon Shield on my switch with me as the comedic relief-slash-man getting taught Pokemon at the ripe old age of 20.”

Another guy slides into view besides Richie. He’s shorter, and he has straighter hair. He’s wearing a pink t-shirt with thick, pastel rainbow stripes across the chest.

“You may know him as Spaghetti89, the man who knows everything, but I know him as Eddie, the yin to my yang, the Scully to my Mulder-” Richie says, and Eddie pushes him out of frame. 

“Yeah, I’m Eddie, I’m gonna play Pokemon like you should actually play Pokemon, not how this idiot plays it,” Eddie says and jerks his thumb in the direction of where Richie rolled off. “I’m gonna Nuzlocke it, and it’s going to rule, and also Richie might kiss me.”

Richie rolls back into frame. “Yeah, we’re together, or whatever. No biggie, except for the fact that I’m dating the biggest cutie in the fucking world,” he grins and pinches Eddie’s cheeks, which Eddie jerks away from. 

“Yeah, whatever, I’m Mr. Trashmouth now, let’s catch some fucking Pokemon,” Eddie smiles. Richie kisses his cheek. 

The chat spams the spaghetti emoji.

**Author's Note:**

> yes this is my third reddie fic in 3 days, but they and Pokemon Shield are all I can think of. talk to me @ bellowbacks on twitter im friendly and LOVE THESE MEN . also all of your comments on my interview fic are the only thing sustaining me rn i love you


End file.
